


Thin Ice

by solasharel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cold, Cold Weather, Emprise du Lion, F/M, Freezing, Hypothermia, Injury, M/M, Near Death, Snow, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solasharel/pseuds/solasharel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Nyriel Lavellan and her companions are caught in a snow storm while travelling through the Emprise du Lion.  Low supplies means having to return to the cold.  Bonding ensues over following chapters.<br/>As always, I appreciate comments for feedback/anything I've missed!  These fics don't exist without your support!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a one-shot fic, which grew into several chapters.
> 
> It's a slow burn, adult themes are not immediate.

The snow clung to the Inquisitor’s lashes as she and her companions trudged up the valley through knee-deep snow.  The mission to free the region of Emprise du Lion from the Red Templars had been delayed by continuing poor weather, the snowstorms whipping up the white powder and blocking her path with every few hours of progress.  She could see perhaps three feet in front of her, the trees around were just darker patches of grey against the white foreground. Her left arm wrapped itself around her middle to preserve heat with little success, the mark on her hand aching and pulsing, and a thick scarf was pulled up around her head and face to keep the ice from stinging her cheeks.  The tips of her ears were raw despite the relief the makeshift hood gave her.  

She tried not to let her memories of escaping Haven creep in, the visions of her isolation in that frigid wasteland chilling her far more than the flurries that raged around her.  Instinctively she looked back over her shoulder and could faintly make out the outlines of her companions; Dorian and Iron Bull huddled close together, the freezing weather taking its toll on the Tevinter necromancer.  Solas walked behind them, both hands gripping his staff and pulling him through the deepening snow.  It was a comfort to see them with her, to know that she did not have to suffer this Gods-forsaken climate alone.  

Not far now, she thought, facing forward to scan the bleak view in front her, there has to be a place to camp up here somewhere.  

Just as she was about to give up all hope of leaving the storm, she saw the curves of a cave mouth in a rock face.  She let out a shrill whistle to the others, who looked up and saw her point in the direction of the cliffs, motivating them to press on.  It came upon them quickly, and they stood under the overhang of the cave to try and establish their surroundings.  Bull rounded up some half-burned logs and Dorian weakly gave life to them, sparking the smallest of fires.  His teeth chattered, and she could see the stiffness in his fingers as he tried to coax the flames brighter and warmer.  

“We will be lucky if that fire survives the night, _vhenan_ ,” came a familiar voice next to her.  Solas stood at her side, looking out into the nothingness of the blizzard, seemingly unaffected by the fierce wind that had battered his face and left his cheeks pink and sore.  The dark hood he wore was already soaking through with the melting snow, but he showed no chill.  She placed a hand on his arm and turned to Bull, who was busy tending the the third mage in their party, peeling off the dampest layers of clothing and holding them over the fire to thaw out.  He had given up his leather harness and placed it around Dorian’s shoulders, knowing that the residual heat would last long enough for the wool cloak to dry.  Like Solas, the Qunari showed no signs of being afflicted by the wintry weather.  Nyriel looked back at her elven companion, already dreading the answer to her question.

“What do you suggest, Solas?  Without a fire we’ll freeze to death, but it’s not safe for anyone out in that storm.”  She chewed at her lip as she weighed the decision, knowing that there was no real choice to be made.  Solas held his hand over the hers, still resting on his arm.  She was surprised as how warm his skin felt, considering they had barely been beside the fire for a few minutes.

“We need a fire, _lethallan_ ,” he spoke, “at the bottom of the valley I saw trees; there may be enough dry wood to carry back for the night.  In the morning we can decide our next course of action.”  His words echoed the thoughts already established in her mind, and she sighed.  She hated the cold.  Of course, Skyhold was cold but it was dry, well protected from the worst winds by its high walls.  It was gentle enough to allow her garden to flourish, whereas here everything was saturated with a dampness that clung to your bones, and the winds made hard work of looking at anything for more than a moment.  Nyriel turned to the rest of her party, still warming up inside the cave.

“Bull.  Solas and I will look for more wood.  If we can find anything to eat in this damned blizzard then it’ll be going over that fire, so make sure to keep the it alight for as long as possible.  If you two can, try and get a couple of tents up - we’ll be needing every extra barrier against this gale at this rate.”  She motioned towards the pack she had left by the wall of the cave, and Dorian gave a quick salute.  He hadn’t the control to speak just yet, his teeth still chattering away.

“Yes, Boss.”  Bull nodded his understanding, pulling his great-sword closer to his side.  There would be no telling what would wander their way while they were stranded here.  Nyriel tugged her scarf back up around her face, and waved, signalling her departure.  Solas took off beside her, the pair heading East towards a darker field of grey that could almost be mistaken for trees.  

They walked in silence, concentrating their efforts into each step that plunged deep into the snow.  Already the campfire was a dim glow, and she shuddered, trying to make a mental note of a landmark that could bring her back this direction, but the shifting winds made it impossible.  This would not be a long trek, if she could help it.  As the hill levelled below them into a barren basin, they could see the trunks of trees punctuating the mounds of powdery snow.  She pulled at Solas’ elbow and pointed, and he clasped her hand as they made their way across the open expanse.  The deep snow made it impossible to find sticks on the ground, so Nyriel had to climb into the branches to find wood dry enough to use in the fire.  As she gathered them, pulling herself from branch to branch in the howling wind, she threw them down and Solas bound them with a spare leather belt from his pack.  Soon enough they had plenty of supplies to see out a day or so, though it seemed the worst of the weather was behind them.  As she made her way back down the last tree the gales had lessened, the snow around them beginning to fall straighter and glimmers of the late evening sky peeking through the dull clouds overhead.  They set a return course for the cave, its faint glow the only sign of life anywhere around them.  There was only silence, the animals long since having found cover from the poor conditions.  

They had made it most of the way across the flat terrain when Nyriel felt a shifting beneath her feet.  There was a groan and a muffled cracking sound, and the snow slipped away beneath Nyriel’s feet, sucking her down with it.  In an instant she was submerged in ice-cold water, snow pouring on top of her and blocking her view of the broken ice she had plunged into.

It had happened before Solas could register a reaction.  One moment she had been beside him, ploughing through the dusty top layers of the snow, when he had felt the shifting beneath him.  Before he could put an arm out to grab her she had vanished below the surface of the frozen lake, leaving only his outstretched arm and a dark, gaping abyss where her body had once been.

 “Nyriel!”  He shouted, but there was no one to hear it.  He stared in shock at the absence of her, throwing the bundle of sticks aside and edging on his stomach towards the trickling snow.  Peering into the depths revealed nothing but blackness.  

It is just as likely that she cannot see me, he thought.  He rolled up a sleeve and plunged his hand into the water, pain seething between his teeth at the sudden contact with the cold lake.  He swayed his hand to and fro, hoping that there may be something to feel, to grab on to - he had no idea how deep this lake was, or even if she could swim - but there was no trace of her to be found.  He left his arm dangling for a moment before the screaming, itching pain in his arm became unbearable and he was forced to lift it from the water.  To his right he felt a bump under the layer of ice.  Not too far, he surmised.  He drummed his fingers against the glass-like floor, hoping not to set off another crack in the ice, and felt her scratching back weakly.  

“Nyriel, this way! _Isala sahlinan_!”  He cried again, willing her to feel how close she was to the invisible opening before it was too late.  He sunk his arm in again and could feel her thin, bony fingers trying to find purchase on something, anything.  Wrapping a hand around her wrist, he dragged her to the exit, heaving her onto the snowy bank.  Her breathing stuttered and rasped, the air ripping into her throat, and she rolled over to cough the water from her lungs.  He reached out an arm to pat her soundly on the back, making sure there was no liquid remaining, then pulled her back to her feet.  

"Can you walk?" He asked, checking over her limbs and face for any immediate injuries.  She nodded that she could, tucking her hands into her armpits to try and warm them.

“We must move quickly, _vhenan_ ," he continued,  "we do not know where the edge of this lake is.  We could fall again at any moment.”  He removed his vest, throwing it over her shoulders before gathering up the discarded wood and heading in the direction of their camp.  He practically pulled her towards the hillside, her shivering frame soaked and slumped forward, her hair sticking to her face.  It pained him to see her lips blue and numb, nearing hypothermia, but there was little more he could do while they were still out in the cold.  

They were a good way up the incline before her knees eventually buckled.  She could barely summon the effort to breathe, a raking fiery pain that tore through her lungs, burning as much as it was freezing.  The thought struck her that the snow wasn’t entirely uncomfortable.  In fact, as her eyes closed, she wondered at the urgency of Solas’ gait.  Couldn’t he see that she needed to lay down for a moment?   

Solas looked back to see her body collapsed in the snow, her cheeks flushed and her fingers stiff.  He needed to move faster.  He slid the few paces back down the hill and lifted her into his arms, holding her body against his.  He hoped against hope that he could save her from this.  Although she had fought freezing temperatures at the loss of Haven it had been nothing compared to the battle she now waged within her own skin.  He shifted her in his arms, managing to place a few fingers against her cheek and muttering a spell that sent warmth gliding from his fingers.  For a brief second there was colour, then the pallid grey returned.  His mouth formed a slim line.  He needed to hurry.


	2. Return to Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas arrives back at camp with a near-frozen Inquisitor in his arms, and quick measures are taken to bring her back to a stable temperature before hypothermia takes hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slow update - still settling into a new country, and there's all sorts of visa paperwork that needs to be completed, as well as a wedding to plan. It's left me little time for writing and editing recently. I'm working on the next chapter right away, there's still a few more to come!  
> As always, please let me know what you think! I love to see your comments!

It was a relief to see the shadows of their companions in the distance.  The snow had worsened again during the climb towards the rocky outcrop they were hiding under, and he was starting to feel the stinging at his shoulderblades.  Nyriel’s body hung almost lifeless in his arms.  He could see faint whispers of vapour rise from her lips but they became fewer with every minute.  As he rounded the mouth of the cave he saw the other two gentlemen seated perhaps too comfortably at the fire.  Their cosy, relaxed faces dropped at the sight of their Inquisitor, frozen droplets of lakewater hanging from her coat tails.  Dorian jumped to Solas’ aid, stoking the fire and piling on the sticks that the elven mage had carried with him.  

“Shit, what happened?”  Iron Bull cut through the silence, taking Nyriel in his arms and laying her down before the fire.  Solas ignored him for the moment, focusing his attention of removing the Inquisitor’s sodden clothing.  He sat beside her, tugging of her gloves and boots.  There was a thick noise akin to mud that accompanied the boots, and a small river of water poured out onto the stone.  Solas shuddered, reminded of her disappearing body vanishing below the water.

The layers of her shirts clung to her skin, and in some places had even begun to stiffen with frost.  The fireside could not have come too soon, Solas mused.  When presented with her small clothes he swallowed thickly, looking briefly at the other two.

“She does not need to know we were all present for this, agreed?”  He murmured.  Dorian huffed smiled meekly.

“It bears little complication for me, Solas,” he replied tartly.  Solas turned to his backpack and rummaged into the bottom, pulling out a spare old woollen cloak.  It needed stitching, but it would serve fine for now.  In a swift motion he bundled her in the makeshift blanket and pulled at her underclothes, throwing them onto the pile of her sodden articles.  Finally, he shuffled closer to the fire and pulled her into his lap, hoping that any source of heat, even his own, would benefit her now.  Nyriel’s body had barely resisted during any of Solas’ assistance, which worried him.  Normally she was vibrant, self-assured, stubborn at times.  Now her skin was a thin sheet of milk-white, her veins visible below the surface.  Her freckles could hardly be seen.  Her breathing shuddered, vibrating through her small frame, but she did not wake.  He looked at Bull across the light of the fire.

“At the basin of the valley a lake lay covered in snow.  We were returning with our firewood when the ice broke, and it swallowed her and a good deal of our supplies with it.  She was fortunate to have made it out again at all.”  He turned away, wondering if perhaps the incident could have been avoided, but he could not recall.  He looked back at his exhausted companions.  

“I’ll take the first watch, and alert you if anything changes.”  The two men nodded their understanding and headed into their tent.  Solas sighed.  He supposed they knew of the nature of his affections regarding their Inquisitor.  She was hardly secretive, skipping about the castle the day he had visited her on her balcony.  His heart swelled now at the sight of her, such a small thing even for an elf, curled up and blue with cold.  Hypothermia was known to take its victims swiftly at this stage, but he gave a silent wish for her to see the dawn.  He stroked her cheek, tracing the bone and sweeping a thumb across her lips.

“Fen’Harel tu’dar ma, vhenan,” he whispered; a private promise.  He would tell her his truth eventually.  She was owed as much, if not more.  She stirred slightly, a long draw of breath filled her lungs and her eyelids fluttered.  He worried for a moment that some part of her had heard him, but she made no further movement.  

For hours he lay there, watching the light of the fire burning lower until the dawn rose.  Nyriel had slept peacefully, her breathing gaining strength through the night, and he had relaxed somewhat after the first few hours.  Bull emerged from the tent first, careful not to catch his horns as he stepped out.  

“Ah, Solas, is it dawn already?  You should have called one of us.  Or did you just want some privacy?”  His jovial nature grated on Solas, who was suffering greatly from the lack of sleep.  Fatigue was not something he dealt with often, given his frequent ventures into the Fade.  He allowed himself a moment for any snide remark to pass before finally answering as calmly as he could.

“You two needed the rest.  We may need your strength if we are to see out our short stay here.”

“Short stay?  You mean she isn’t… awake?”  Few things could shatter Bull’s spirit, but the Qunari imagined the worst in that moment.

“She is stable, Iron Bull, do not worry.  She still sleeps, but she is gathering strength.  She may yet pull through.”  As though in confirmation, Nyriel twitched from under the blanket, her skin prickling with goosebumps.

“Excellent, she is warming up.  Shivering is a positive sign.”  Solas smiled tiredly, and yawned.  “If you don’t mind, I would prefer to take a short nap.  See that she doesn’t get too cold, and wake me in an hour.”  Solas lay her before the fireplace, bolstering her sides with the backpacks and cloaks they had brought with them, and climbed into his own tent.  Sleep came easily, and with a blink he was looking about the Fade-blurred reflection of their current dwelling.  He almost missed Nyriel, naked and huddled in a corner of the cave.

“It is good to see you, _vhenan_.  I had not expected your presence here so quickly.”

Her eyes peered at him, glassy and eggshell pale.  He sat beside her, pulling her body into his to comfort her, guilt hounding his every breath.

“Everything is so cold, Solas.  Even the Fade can’t bring me warmth.”  She whispered, her knees bent right up to her chin, and she began to rock back and forth.  Solas noted that her skin was flushed, chill even here in the Fade.  Her body may be returning to health, but her mind was still very much traumatised from the shock.  He stroked at her hair, matted and damp as she imagined it to be.

“Allow me to help.  I could fetch you some clothes and a fire?”  A wave of his hand called forth his memory of the fireplace, which burst into life before them.  The false heat tickled his cheeks and she rubbed her shins, sighing with relief.  

“I’ve been trying for hours, but I couldn’t call the magic.  Nothing happens anymore, everything feels numb.  Is that normal?”  She wondered aloud.  Solas turned to her.  

“I’ve certainly never heard of such a thing among mages, but I suppose it’s possible.  The Fade reacts to your thoughts and emotions; if you lack sufficient will it is harder to change your surroundings.  As it is, you’re.. tired.  I would find it difficult, were it not for practice and acuity.”  

Nyriel watched as Solas got up and felt along the wall of the cave until he came to a notch in the stone.  Pushing it, she saw a section of the wall crease inward as though the door had been there the entire time.  She rued that she had not thought to do that sooner.  Solas disappeared into the room, returning some moments with a bundle of fabric folded neatly over one arm.  She recognised it as her dress robe, the red velvet sparkling from the fire light.  He held out the robe and Nyriel slowly got up and slipped into it.

“Would you prefer to come somewhere more comfortable?  There is a fire in here as well,” he offered, extending a hand towards her.  Nyriel followed him and found herself stood  beside the bed in her quarters, replicated in near-perfect detail.  Solas had sat himself before the hearth of the fire, his hand picking at his own warm, clean clothes.  She smirked; he was simply showing off now.  She gathered pillows and blankets from the bed, and settled in next to him, falling into his embrace and sighing as the flames brought colour back to her face.

“It will do you good to rest, _emma lath_ ,” he instructed, “come back to us when you are ready; we have time enough.  The Iron Bull and Dorian are waiting, but I’ll be right beside you if you need me.  This dream should hold out for a while longer.   _Nehn’eranen, ma vhenan_.”  He leaned over her and kissed her lightly on the lips, the tingling of magic faint but present.  In the blink of an eye he was gone, and she tucked herself into the dream-fabricated furs and watched the fire, content that she was at last feeling some kind of heat.  Her attentions wandered to her hand, the Anchor sputtering and fizzing but inert for the time being.  She tried to conjure a wisp of magic but nothing would come to her.  She sighed, and supposed that Solas must have been correct.  If she did not feel completely capable of exercising magic then it would not happen.  Still, something felt… wrong.

Solas awoke to the sound of Iron Bull outside his tent, tapping against the timber frame.

“I don’t know what freaky shit you two got up to while you were out, but Boss has been smiling the whole time.  Damned pretty sight too, I tell ya.”  Solas merely rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  He made no attempt to counter Bull’s remark, instead stepping out of the tent to check on her.  Dorian was camped out next to Nyriel, having laid his bedroll out to keep her body from the cold stone floor.  She was still shivering, but less so than when he had left her, and for that Solas was grateful.  He knelt beside her and checked her extremities for any lasting damage.  Aside from a particularly sore spot on her elbow she would come through unscathed.

“She is fine, for now," he spoke to no one in particular, "I found her in the Fade.  I expect her to rouse from sleep by noon.  How strong she will be when she wakes remains to be seen.”  

He leant forward to help himself to the rations inside one of the packs, looking outside at the snow-covered ground.  The weather was still now; the morning sun was rising from behind the cliff, illuminating the valley below them.  He could faintly see the scar in the snow, the inky blackness of the lake below it barely visible at this distance, and wondered how it was that they had made it back at all through the stormy weather.  His mind retraced the events of her accident, how she seemed to evaporate before his eyes, the cracking and crunching of the ice ringing in his ears even now.  He felt a lump harden in his chest, muscles constricting his breathing.  She really could have died. She could yet.

Solas stood up and faced Dorian and Bull once more.  

"We are going to need more firewood to get through the day.  If you two wish to remain here I can-" he started, but was interrupted by Bull.

"No offence, Solas, but the last time you ventured out outside you nearly killed two people and you were one of them.  Of the three of us you're the better healer.  Stay with her and I'll go."

Dorian added to Bull's suggestion.

"I'll go as well.  Someone needs to keep a reign on the big guy or he'll go looking for trouble when we need it least.  Besides, the sunshine might put me in better spirits."

With the plans for the next while settled, Dorian packed up a few small supplies for the pair of them and headed out towards a new set of trees further up the hill. Solas watched as they slowly disappeared out of sight, then returned his attention to his Inquisitor.

His thoughts swirled lazily through his mind, and he frowned when he recalled Nyriel mentioning that she could not summon magic.  If he were able he would journey back to the Fade to consult with a spirit about the conundrum, though it would have provided little comfort.  Solas was already keenly aware of her problem, and shook the thoughts from his mind. There was little he could do for now.  Gently, he pulled a comb from her pack and began to tidy her hair.  She would like that, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nehn’eranen - "joy dreams", pleasant dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Elvhen:
> 
> Isala sahlinan! - I need you here!


End file.
